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PORTRAIT OF RATPH FAUNHAM. 






liograpljiral Slulrl^ 



LIFE OF MLPH FAMHAM, 



ACTON, MAINE; 



NOW IN THE ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTH YEAR OF HIS AGE, 
AND THE SOLE SURVIVOR OF THE GLORIOUS BATTLE 



BUNKER HILL 



BY C. W. CLARENCE. 



Mr. FABNHASf'S Yearly Pension, upon which he is dependent for support, 
is only $61.66, and these Books are Sold for his BENEFIT. 



BOSTON, SEPTEMBER 20, 1860. 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860, 

BY RALPH FABNHAM, 

In the Clerk's OfBce of the District Court of the United States, for the District 
of Massachusetts. 













INVITATION 

From His Excellency N. P. Banks, Governor of Massachusetts ; 
His Honor F. W. Lincoln, Esq. , Mayor of Boston ; Hon. Edward 
Everett, and many others of the most distinguished citizens of 
Boston, to 

Mr. RALPH FAENHAM, 

The SOLE SURVIVOR of the Battle of Bunker Hill, to visit that city : 
The following correspondence, relative to the proposed visit of 
the venerable Ralph Farnham to the city of Boston, and the scene 
of his earliest struggles during the Revolutionary War, will be read 
with interest. The invitation sent by His Excellency Governor 
Banks was, as will be seen, signed by a great number of the lead- 
ing citizens of Boston — by clergymen, literary men, and others ; and 
Mr. Stevens generously placed comfortable apartments, in the 
Revere House, at the old gentleman's disposal. 

Mr. Ralph Farnham, Acton, Me. : 

We, being residents of the city of Boston, the scene of our 
earliest Revolutionary struggles, naturally feel a pride in every- 
thing that reminds us of the glorious days when our forefathers 
did battle for freedom. That generation has well-nigh passed 
away — you, in your 105th year, are one of the few cormecting 
links which unites the present generation with that upon which 
the Independence of our country dawned, and the sole survivor 
of that gallant band who took part in the battle of Bunker Hill. 
We cordially invite you to visit Boston. We desire to see you — 
to shake hands witli you, and to pay you that respect due alike to 
your patriarchal age, and to the part you took in the struggle 
which secured our National Independence. 



SIGNED BY 



Hon. Nath'l p. Banks, Gov. 
Richard Frothixgham, Jr. , Esq. 
Hon. J. A. Andrew. 
Wm. Appleton, Esq. 
Hon. Samuel H. Wallet. 
Hon. .John P. Bigelow. 
Nath'l B. Shurtleff, M. D. 
Rev. N. Adajls, D. D. 
Charles G. Greene, Esq. 
Rev. G. W. Blagden, D. D. 
Walter Chaning, M. D. 
Rev. Ezra S. Gannett, M. D. 
JohnD. Philbrick, Esq. 
Hon. B. F. Hallett. 
Hon. G. S. Hillard. 
Geo. p. Sanger, Esq. 
OsMYN Brewster, Esq. 
Geo. S. Hale, Ei?q. 
S. E. Sewall, Esq. 
Rev. Charles Folsom, D. D. 
Joel Bigelow, M. D. 
Hon. Henry J. Gardner. 



F. W. Lincoln, Mayor. 

Hon. Edward Everett. 

Hon. Charles Sumner. 

Peleg W. Chandler, Esq. 

W. D. TiCKNOR, Esq. 

Hon. Lemuel Shaw, Chief Justice. 

Amos A. Lawrence, Esq. 

J. A. Lowell, Esq. 

George Hatwood, M. D. 

Hon. Charles Hale. 

J. Wingate Thornton, Esq. 

C. B. Goodrich, Esq. 

Uriel Crocker, Esq. 

Chas. D. Gould, Esq. 

Wm. Crosby, Esq. 

Jamrs MuNROE, Esq. 

J. Mason Warren, M. D. 

Rev. C. A. Bartol. 

Rev. A. A. Miner. 

Rev. Baron Stow, D. D. 

S. SwBFT, Esq. 

Rev. S. K. Lothrop, D. D. 



Acton (Mb.), Sept. 21, 1860. 
J/r. iV". P. Banks, Governor ; Mr. F. W. Lincoln, Mayor ; Mr. Edward 
Everett, and others : 

I have received your invitation to visit Boston. I thank you 
lor the honor you do me. When I 'listed in the Americiin army, 
at 18 years of age, and engaged in the battle of Bunker Hill, I did 
not suppose I should live to be 104 years of age, and be asked by 
.so many distinguished men to visit Boston. I do not think I de- 
serve any special credit for the part I took in the Revolution. I 
only felt and acted as others. 

1 remember distinctly the time when I 'listed, in May, 1775, and 
soon after left home for Cambridge. Just out of the village of 
Andover, we came to the house of Colonel Abbott, who came out 
in his slippers, and said : " Well done, my lads !" and sent us out 
cider and grog in pails. We then marched and got to Cambridge 
the day before the battle of Bunker Hill. 0, that was a dreadful 
battle ! It was the first time I had ever took part in fighting. It 
was dreadful to take those eight guns from the British and turn 
them upon them. After that I served through three campaigns — 
one in 1775, and two in 1777. 

I receive every year my pension of $61.66, though I have to pay 
$4 every year to a lawyer in Portland to get it for me. 

I have many things to comfort me as I journey along through 
life ; innumerable are the mercies I am surrounded with. As to 
temporal matters — kind, loving children, faithful friends. As to 
spiritual — the Holy Scriptures, and the various institutions of 
religion — all of which are designed for our improvement here, and 
to prepare us to dwell in that better world above. 

If a kind Providence spare my life and health, you may expect 
to see me in Boston between the first and eighth of October. I 
cannot now name the day. Your friend, 

EALPH FAENHAM. 



Revere House, Boston, Sept. 27, 1860. 

7b Ralph Farnham, Esq.: — Having learned that His Excellency the Gover- 
nor, His Honor the Mayor, and several others among our leading citizens, have 
invited you to visit this city, I herewith offer you such accommodations (free of 
e-xpense) at the Revere House, as you and your family may require. In so 
doing, I wish to offer my tribute of respect to the last survivor of Bunker Hill, 
and to one who has attained to your great age. 

Yours truly, PARAN STEVENS. 



Acton, Maine, Sept. 21, 1860. 
lb Mr. Par an Stevens: — I feel much honored by your kind request that I 
should make the Revere House my home during my short stay in Boston, and I 
thankfully accept your generous offer. 

Your friend, RALPH FARNHAM. 



BIOGRAPHY. 



Ralph Parnham, the subject of the following me- 
moir, was born at Lebanon, New Hampshire, on the 
7th of July, 1156. His father was a farmer, and, up 
to the completion of his eighteenth year, Ralph worked 
on the farm. The family — as the name will indicate — 
originally came from England ; though the period of 
their emigration, or even the name of the ancestor who 
first made his home on these transatlantic shores, is un- 
known. It is probable, therefore, that the Farnhams — 
if they did not arrive with the first band of pilgrims, 
on board the Mayflower — were, at all events, amongst 
the earliest settlers in this Northern section of the 
Union. When the subject of our brief history had attain- 
ed to his eighteenth year, the seeds of discord between 
the mother country and the North American Colonies, 
which had been first sown many years before, had 
burst forth into that open disaffection which ripened 
into a desire for disunion, and resulted eventually in 
our National Independence. In his seclusion in Leba- 
non, young Ralph Farnham and his youthful com- 
panions soon heard of the growing disaffection of their 
fellow-colonists in the cities of the sea coast, and par- 
ticularly in Boston — which was then, as now — the 
capital of New England. How speedily the patriot- 
ism of the country people responded to the call of the 
inhabitants of the seaport towns is matter of history ; 
and the subject of our memoir was among the earliest 
of those gallant youths, who — scarcely past the age 
of boyhood — quitted the plow and the sickle for the 



8 

musket and sword, and, regardless of hardship and 
fearless of peril, left their peaceful homes, and their 
families and friends, and all that was dear to them, 
for the discomforts and dangers of the battle field — 
resolving to return as victors, or return no more. 

Not the youthful alone, but the middle-aged, anc 
even the far advanced in years — all who could shoulder 
a musket or wield a sword — joined the ranks of the 
"rebels" — as the patriots who resented the tyrannical 
imposts of the Mother Country were then termed by 
the Government party ; and, perhaps, there was not 
a single household throughout New England that did 
not send forth one — and many sent forth all able 
to bear arms, to take part in the anticipated struggle 
against a foe which had hitherto been regarded in the 
light of a kindred people, and which was possessed of 
power and resources so vast, in comparison to them- 
selves, that, to a less courageous and less determined 
race, the very attempt to ojDpose them would have ap- 
peared ridiculous; any successful opposition — hopeless. 

There were many Spartan mothers, and sisters, and 
wives, amongst the women of the colonies, who saw 
their sons, and brothers, and husbands, go forth, with 
pride, and bade them God speed ! But it would be 
contrary to nature to suppose that even amongst the 
most heroic of these mothers, and sisters, and wives, 
and female friends, there were any who saw those 
whom they loved depart on an expedition of such im- 
minent peril, without a secret pang, and a dread lest 
they should never witness their return ; and it is not 
to be wondered at that there were many who, when 
the moment of parting arrived, shrunk from the 
thought, and, giving way for the moment to the natu- 



ral feelings of the sex, begged them to stay, or saw 
them go with bitter tears. It was thus with the 
mother of Ralph Farnham. 

His friends had left the fields and the farms to take 
care of themselves, and buckling on the old rusty 
militia swords of their fathers and grandfathers, and 
seizing musket or fowling piece — anything and every- 
thing with which they hoped to be able to annoy the com- 
mon enemy which had arisen from amongst their own 
kindred — the sons and grandsons of the same ances- 
tors from whom they (the Colonists) were descended — 
anything and everything which would enable them to 
strike a blow for that independence of thought, speech, 
and action which a haughty aristocracy — at home — as, 
until then, they had fondly designated the land of 
their forefathers' birth — though to them it was a 
strange and far-distant country — had gone forth into 
the strife, followed by the prayers and blessings of 
those they had left behind, and it was not to be ex- 
pected that Ralph — a fine, strong, tall, healthy, spir- 
ited youth of eighteen — .could witness their departure, 
and remain contentedly at home, in inglorious ease and 
ignoble safety, while others of his own age had volunta- 
rily gone forth to meet the threatened danger! He says 
he could not have borne the shame and disgrace ; he 
would have blushed to look the women-folk, amongst 
whom he remained, in the face ; and when his young 
companions returned — flushed with the victory their 
patriotic feelings led them to anticipate — as the sure 
result of a struggle in which freemen would contend 
for the security and happiness of all they prized most 
dearly on earth, against hireling foes and mercenary 
strangers, doing battle for tyranny — he would have 
1* 



10 

shrunk from meeting them, and have felt himself no 
longer worthy of his manhood. But his mother 
trembled at the thought. It was not that she was de- 
void of the patriotism which actuated women as well 
as men in those eventful days, but she could not bear 
that he — the last of her children — the only one left 
upon whom she could lean for support, and upon whom 
she could lavish her mother's aflfection — should quit 
her side, perhaps to return no more. He dared not 
tell her of the stirring aspirations which filled his 
soul, and urged him to go forth and share the perils 
of his comrades ; but one day, when she was absent, 
he took down, from the brackets on which it was sus- 
pended, his father's old gun, and set to work — secretly 
— to burnish it up and make it presentable. He had 
had an interview, on the previous day, with the Revo- 
lutionary recruiting agent, but she (his mother) knew 
nothing of it. She passed him while he was so busily 
occupied that he had not seen her approach. She 
noticed his employment, and the anxious fears of a 
mother at once took alarm. " Ralph," she said, " my 
son, surely you have not enlisted ?" 

" Not yet, mother," replied the youth, with a slight 
blush of shame at the deception he was contemplating. 
But the mother's fears were not so easily quieted. 
Perhaps she had noticed some hesitation in his tone of 
voice ; perhaps she knew too well the thoughts which 
were agitating his mind. He wished her to think that 
he was merely cleaning the gun to go out on a shoot- 
ing excursion ; but she could not rest satisfied. She 
said nothing further to him, but hurried off to a neigh- 
bor — whose son, a favorite companion of Ralph's, had 
enlisted on the previous day — determined to learn 



11 

whether or not her suspicions were correct. Ralph 
was watching her sharply. He guessed the object of 
her visit, and followed her to the neighbor's house, 
and just as he got to the door she came forth crying 
bitterly, and threw her arms round the young man's 
neck, unable to utter a word. " Ah !" said the vener- 
able old man, when relating to us this aifecting inci- 
dent — " Ah, I was sorry then ; but it was too late ; 
besides, how could I have remained at home ?" 

Having comforted the poor old lady as best he was 
able, and at length having wrung from her a reluctant 
consent, he, with several of the young men of the vil- 
lage, set forth on their march to Cambridge, where 
General Washington had taken up his headquarters 
but a short time before, on assuming the chief com- 
mand of the Revolutionary army. The road was muddy, 
and sloppy, and the march tedious and wearisome, but 
the gallant youths were encouraged by the cheers of 
the inhabitants of the farm-houses, and the villages 
they passed through on their route, and by the smiles 
of the women and the blessings of the aged men ; be- 
sides, young men, with a great and glorious object in 
view, were not to be disheartened by a fatiguing 
march. They upheld each other's spirits by singing 
the patriotic ballads which had come in vogue, and by 
encouraging that sanguine hope, natural to youth, of 
individual glory, and of ultimate complete success. 

They frequently enjoyed the hospitality of the in- 
habitants of the country through which their march 
led them ; there was no lack of material aid, in the 
form of the best the people had to bestow, as well 
as in the encouragement of cheering words . As they 
passed through Andover, one Colonel Abbott, an el- 



12 

derly gentleman, who resided in a pretty villa on the 
outskirts of the village, came out in his dressing- 
gown and slippers, and bade them " God speed 1" 
" God bless you, my brave lads !" he cried : " Do your 
duty like men," and he invited the oflBcers into his 
dwelling, and desiring the recruits to rest themselves 
in his barns, or to walk about his grounds, he sent 
them abundant refreshment, in the shape of cider and 
grog — in pails. 

"Did he send you anything to eat ?" we inquired of 
the old gentleman, when he was relating this incident, 
with an evidently vivid recollection of the welcome 
with which the cider and grog were received. 

" No," he replied ; " we didn't want anything to 
eat. It was not the time for that ; but the sun had 
burst forth, and the mud had changed to dust, and we 
were hot, and tired, and thirsty. No cider ever tasted 
so good as that." 

The youthful recruits were very soon taught that 
the new duties upon which they had entered, and for 
which they had left behind them the comforts and in- 
dulgences of their quiet country homes, were those of 
hardship and danger — allowing no time for inglorious 
ease — scarcely allowing even the natural rest they 
needed, after their long and weary march. They 
reached the encampment at Cambridge only the day 
before the battle of Bunker Hill was fought. The 
camp was all bustle and apparent confusion, for they 
expected an attack from the British, but were at a loss 
to conjecture from what point the attack would be made, 
and were even ignorant of the strength of the ene- 
my. The officers, from Washington downwards, were 
evidently anxious and ill at ease, for though they 



13 

knew the courage of the men under their command, 
and saw that they were full of generous enthusiasm, 
they were aware, also, that they would have to con- 
tend against well-drilled and well-disciplined troops, 
amply provided with all the materials of warfare — 
well clothed, well fed, and accustomed to victory ; 
and, perhaps, far superior to them in numbers. 

And against these troops what had they to oppose ? 
Strong, stout, brave men, certainly : men who had 
come forth from their homes to do battle for right, for 
truth, and for freedom, and who would do their best, 
and fall to a man, ere they would yield ; but many — 
nay, the majority of them — were undisciplined men, 
unaccustomed to move and act in concert, but poorly 
provided with arms and accoutrements, or even with 
necessary clothing, for a long campaign ; many of 
them were mere lads, and but few had ever seen gun- 
powder fired in anger I If they were overwhelmed at 
the outset — nay, even if they were unsuccessful — it 
was doubtful whether they could even obtain provis- 
ions to keep them from starving ! Their trust was in 
God, and in the justice of their cause — in him and this 
alone. " Washington," said the old gentleman, " rode 
round the camp, and reviewed the men. There were all 
sorts — old men, middle-aged men, and boys. Some in 
uniform, some without ; some dressed like gentlemen, 
some just as they had come from the farm, with arms 
of all sorts. We were cheered as we marched in ; but 
they had no time to do more than welcome us, and tell 
us where we were to station ourselves. General 
Washington rode up to us and spoke a few cheering 
words — not many. He was wanted everywhere. Offi- 
cers came riding up to him from all parts of the camp. 



14 

and he was constantly giving orders. It was the first 
time I had ever seen him. He seemed as if he was 
trying to look cheerful and confident, but he could not 
conceal his anxiety. After a while, we went to our 
tents and rested for a few hours ; but we soon heard 
the drums and trumpets calling upon all to turn out. 

" No one knew what was the occasion of this sud- 
den call, and as it was growing dark (we follow the old 
gentleman's narrative, though, for the sake of perspi- 
cuity, we shall put his conversational remarks into 
a narrative form, except when some anecdote is 
related), and we were ail in a state of confusion — 
knowing little or nothing of military duty, beyond 
what we had learned at our militia mustering at home. 
However, we were arranged in marching order, under 
the command, as we afterwards learnt, of General Pres- 
cott. There were a good many — I don't know how 
many (History says 1,000 men); and we were marched 
a good distance, till we came to the creek or channel 
which separates Charlestown from Boston. We 
crossed this piece of water — I scarce know how ; 
some in boats, and some on rafts, and I believe some 
forded it, or swam over. We marched on till we 
came to a pretty steep hill, and on this we planted a 
flag, and the men were set to work to dig trenches 
round it and make breastworks. 

" It was hard work, for the night was dark and 
cloudy, though very warm. A good many murmured, 
and began to find that soldiering was hard and dirty 
work, and that soldiers had something else to do be- 
sides cleaning their muskets and popping away at 
the enemy. We had seen no enemy, and a good many 
of us — tired as we were — couldn't think what we were 



15 

set to digging ditches for. But when daylight came 
we were more cheerful — the officers encouraged us, 
and worked themselves, some of them, and we had 
quite a strong entrenchment, with a little river run- 
ning at the foot of the hill. We had little time for 
rest, for the sun had scarce risen, when they commen- 
ced firing cannon from the ships in the harbor ; but the 
shot didn't do much harm — very few reached us — 
and relays of men, mostly recruits, kept on working. 

" So things were till about noon, when they began to 
send soldiers ashore from the ships, and we expected 
an attack, but they halted and waited — I suppose for 
reinforcements, finding us more numerous and stronger 
than they supposed. Meanwhile they set Charlestown 
village on fire, and the flames burnt furiously.* 

" It was far on in the afternoon before any attack 
was made. We wanted to fire at once ; but we were 
ordered not to discharge a musket till they were 
well within gunshot — perhaps fifty or sixty yards off, 
and beginning to climb the hill. Then came the order 
to fire, and we let 'em have it in one grand volley ; 
some of our recruits carried rifles, and if they didn't 
know much of soldiering, they knew how to use them, 
and there came up a loud screech — louder than 
the report of the firearms — and, when the smoke 
cleared away a bit, we saw the enemy all in confu- 
sion — some of them retreating ; but an officer, Gen. 
Howe (I was told afterwards), rallied them, and they 
charged again, but we had loaded fresh, and they 
came up nearer still, when again we fired in a volley, 

* It is doubtful whether Charlestown was set on fire by the British, or 
whether it caught fire by accident. However, no attempt was made by the 
enemy to extinguish the flames. — Ed. 



16 

and they turned and fled, leaving the officers almost 
alone, still standing firm. The enemy was fairly 
beaten off, hadn't a fresh detachment come to their 
relief, when they rallied for the third time; and, seeing 
that our small force stood no chance if they had 
brought us to close quarters, we were ordered to 
retreat as quick as possible. They didn't follow us — 
they were seemingly glad enough to get rid of us — 
and except that some of the cannon-shot from the 
ships, from which they had commenced to fire again at 
shorter range, came pretty near, and I believe hit some 
of our men, they didn't annoy us further. They claim- 
ed the victory by driving us from our position, but I 
guess they wouldn't have liked many such victories. 
The enemy had trained soldiers, and our side mostly 
raw recruits who had never been under fire before, 
and yet their loss was almost twice as great as ours.* 

" Ah !" said the old man, " it was a terrible affair. 
It was frightful to think of, when all was over. The 
killed and wounded lay in all directions and in every 
attitude. It was the first time I had seen fighting, 
and I felt sick ; but it gave us courage, for, recruits as 
most of us were, we had stood our ground against 
regular soldiers. 

" We marched to the camp, and soon after com- 
menced the blockade of Boston, where General Gage 
was in command of the British, but we didn't do much 
all fall and winter ; we were pretty much idle, wait- 
ing for recruits, who came in slowly, until spring, 
when Washington had about 20,000 men under his 
command, and by this time we had been well trained 

* The official account gives the British loss as 226 killed and 828 wounded, 
while the American loss was 145 killed and 304 wounded. — Ed. 



n 

and drilled, and had got to be pretty good soldiers, and 
we who had been with the army all the winter used 
to play tricks with the fresh recruits, and while they 
were digging- trenches and such work, we used to 
keep guard, and as soon as we saw the flash of the 
enemy's guns, for they kept up a constant irregular 
fire upon us, which didn't do much harm, we used to 
drop down upon them in the trenches. They said they 
did all the work, and dug ditches just for us to drop 
into out of the way of the enemy's shots." 

Soon after this Mr. Ralph Farnham marched with 
the army under Washington to Long Island, where he 
took part in nearly every engagement fought there — 
most of them being favorable to the American levies — 
and this continued advantage of raw recruits over 
highly-disciplined soldiers, increased their courage and 
their confidence in themselves, though, unless actively 
employed, there were constant bickerings and quarrels 
between the different levies. To prevent this, General 
Washington endeavored to keep them constantly at 
workjdigging trenches and erecting barricades. ' Often,' 
said the old gentleman, "when there seemed no occa- 
sion for it; they grumbled, and threatened, but never so 
that the General could hear 'em. We all liked General 
Washington, and all seemed to have confidence in him 
from the first." 

It would answer no purpose to follow Mr. Ralph 
Farnham through his several campaigns, inasmuch as 
the thrilling and stirring events of this period of our 
country's history have been fully recorded by histo- 
rians, novelists, poets, and writers of every descrip- 
tion and of every of variety of talent. The experience 
of a soldier serving through one or a dozen campaigns 



18 

possesses a monotonous sameness, wherever may 
have been the field of action. Every school-boy in 
America knows how his forefathers, during that event- 
ful period which, to use a hackneyed but ti'ite expres- 
sion, " tried men's souls," suffered almost inconceiv- 
able hardships, sometimes victorious, sometimes flying 
before a superior force ; suffering from sickness, and 
from the inclemency of weather ; often scantily clad, 
and short of provisions and ammunition; sometimes, 
apparently, so completely driven to bay, that escape 
seemed hopeless, yet never despairing of final suc- 
cess ; or if, sometimes, almost despairing, resolving 
to perish to a man, sooner than give up the glorious 
cause for the sake of which they had relinquished the 
comforts and joys of home, and risked their fortunes 
and their lives. Of course there were many grum- 
blers, as there always will be among mankind, in 
whatever cause engaged; but grumbling is no mark 
of cowardice, or even of regret, and some of the 
veriest grumblers were always among the foremost 
at the call of duty. 

Some general we have read of — we forget whom — 
is said to have remarked, that he wouldn't give much 
for soldiers who didn't grumble, for in such case 
they were supine and spiritless, while a good grum- 
bler could always be silenced by giving him employ- 
ment. He cared not how much they complained, so 
long as he didn't hear them. 

There were also many cravens and deserters — such 
will always be found among a large body of men, 
however brave and honorable and determined they 
may be in the aggregate ; but these were but black 
sheep, whom it was well to be rid of : their disafifec- 



19 

tion was a g'ain rather than a loss, since one of tliese 
men, remaining in a company, is sufficient to damp 
the spirits of, and discourage, all his companions. The 
generals and leaders, and Washington especially, 
whom all soon learnt to look up to, and to rely upon 
in cases of emergency, had much to bear with, and 
much anxiety to suffer ; but, on the whole, history has 
no record of so just a cause, so nobly upheld, and 
resulting in such complete success — nor of hardships 
so nobly borne by men struggling for principle and 
for the birthright of freedom under such terrible dis- 
advantages — for so long a period. The undying fame 
of Washington, the heroic leader of this host of patri- 
ots, was gloriously earned ; and, with rare exceptions, 
officers — and men alike — ^bequeathed to history a bril- 
liant page, far outshining all that the world had 
previously seen, and taught a lesson of courage, forti- 
tude and patriotism to future generations, which has 
ennobled the human race ; which extorted praise 
and respect even from the enemy, and which will be 
read with a glow of pride as long as human sympathy 
responds to deeds of heroism. 

In all these hardships and struggles Ealph Farnham 
— the hero of our sketch — bore his share through the 
campaigns of 1*IT5 to 117t. He entered Boston with 
the forces under General Putnam, after the evacuation 
of the city by General Gage. Putnam and Washing- 
ton both expected to find the place seriously injured ; 
but in this respect they were happily disappointed. 
The city was strongly fortified, but not a house was 
damaged ; and, to Putnam's surprise and delight, a 
large quantity of ammunition, several cannon, and a 
variety of other stores, had been left behind by the 



20 

British, which, of course, fell a prize to the Revolution- 
ary army. Ralph Farnham, then a mere youth, served, 
as we have stated, through the desperate campaign on 
Long Island, and witnessed, from Brooklyn Heights, 
the sad defeat of the Americans, commanded by Lord 
Stirling, by the forces under General Lord Howe. 
Mr. Farnham was, at this period, directly under the 
command of Washington, and he stood by the Father 
of his country, and was an eye-witness of the bitter 
anguish of the latter, as he saw the total overthrow 
of a body of troops, to whom, though so near, be was 
unable to afford the slightest aid. 

He (Ralph Farnham) was also with the forces under 
Washington throughout the disastrous pursuit by the 
British, through New Jersey * the level soil affording 
the Americans no defensible position — while they were 
so hotly pressed that they had no time nor opportunity 
to erect even a temporary fortification w^herein they 
might secure the rest they absolutely needed. This 
was one of the most terrible of all the campaigns ; 
officers and men suffered alike, and Ralph Farnham 
bore his full share of the hardships and perils and de- 
privations of that sad retreat of three weary weeks' 
duration. Many individuals — utterly demoralized — 
deserted during this period, and the wretched army 
was greatly shorn of its numbers by this means, as 
well as by sickness and death - but throughout all, 
young Farnham marched, with a dauntless spirit, 
hoping, as he says — " that as it is a long lane which 
has no turning, better times would come by-and-by," 
and encouraged by the recollection of Bunker Hill, 
and subsequent engagements with the enemy, in the 
early portion of his career. 



21 

At Trenton they had a brief respite ; httt not for 
long. The enemy, still victorious, pressed them closely, 
hanging- upon their outskirts, but refusing a general 
action, which Washington would have risked, even 
with his far inferior force, rather than have been con- 
tinvially subjected to this unceasing annoyance, until, 
at length, they took up their winter quarters at Valley 
Forge. Here the hardships that young Farnham en- 
dured, in conimon. with all his comrades, defy descrip- 
tion. They have been recorded in history, and it is suflBr 
cient for us to say that the hero of our brief sketch was 
present during that dreadful winter : — scantily clad, 
barefooted, half starved, arid in constant expectation 
of being attacked by the enemy ; it is almost miracu- 
lous that any survived till spring, and affords the 
strongest proof of their noble endurance and fortitude, 
and of the persuasive powers of their distinguished 
commander. 

Subsequently, Ralph Farnham rejoined 'the New 
Hampshire corps,, under Generals Starke and Gates, 
and was marched to the vicinity of the Hudson, where 
General Burgoyne, believing that Howe, with the 
entire British army, was waiting foj* him at Albany, 
beg^n a brisk movement northward. Finding himself 
deceived in tliis, and, thereby, in something of a dilem- 
ma, he commenced the destruction of several villages 
and settlements on the banks of the river, hoping to- 
induce Gates, who with his army was encamped near 
Saratoga, to send detachments out to meet him, and 
so weaken the force under his command. Gates, 
however, wisely forbore to do this, satisfying himself 
with preventing Burgoyne from opening a communi- 
cation witla the northern army. 



22 

Burg-oyne soon found himself in a crisis. The 
Americans had strongly guarded all the posts in the 
rear, and had destroyed the flotilla on Lake George ; 
while in front he had an army, double his own in num- 
ber, and in the sort of guerilla warfare, the nature of 
the country compelled, certainly not less, perhaps 
more efficient. Any further movement^ in any direction, 
would, he foresaw, be followed by a series of harass- 
ing attacks, which would destroy his army in detail, 
and nothing was left for him but to surrender at dis- 
cretion. Of all the events relating to Burgoyne's sur- 
render, Mr. Ralph Farnham retains a vivid and distinct 
recollection. It was the greatest triumph that he wit- 
nessed during his career in the Revolutionary army, 
and he is naturally fond of dwelling upon it. 

He was on guard when a flag of truce approached, 
from the British GeneraL A council was held, and 
information was sent back to Burgoyne, that General 
Gates demanded that the whole force should ground 
arms, and surrender themselves as prisoners of war. 

In due time the flag of truce returned, bringing 
information, that General Burgoyne and his officers 
had come to the determination to brave every extremity 
rather than submit to such terms. 

Many of the American officers would have insisted 
upon pushing matters to the utmost, but Gates knew 
the importance of time. He might, perhaps, have com- 
pletely annihilated General Burgoyne's army, but in 
the attempt, he would have left a passage free to the 
British forces, to the northward, to march to the relief 
of their comrades, and thus, after having destroyed 
Burgoyne, have found himself in a similar position to 
that of his foe. He therefore wisely modified his terms, 



23 

and agreed, after some discussion, to grant the honors 
of war, and a free passage to Britain, to Burgoyne, 
his officers and men, on condition of their not serving 
again in North America, during the present contest. 

To these terms, Burgoyne gladly consented, and the 
surrender took place. That the conditions were sub- 
sequently violated, was no fault of Gates. Congress, 
against the desire both of Washington and Gates, 
sought a pretext for evading the contract to convey 
the troops to Britain, being actuated, perhaps, more 
by patriotic zeal, than by the nice honor of General 
Gates, and they found what they sought, through the 
unguarded expression of Burgoyne, who, complaining 
of the subsequent treatment which his men experienced 
in Boston, said, that he considered the convention as 
thereby violated, whence Congress inferred, that, on 
returning home, Burgoyne would represent his gov- 
ernment absolved from the engagement against the 
troops under his command, serving in America. The 
convention was not fulfilled. 

General Gates, however, was courteous- in the ex- 
treme. Frequent civilities — which, in some degree, 
ameliorate the horrors of war — took place between 
the victorious American officers and the British, and 
the men mingled freely together. " On one occasion," 
says Mr. Farnham, " General Gates invited Burgoyne 
and his officers to dine with him. During the repast 
there was much mirth and laughter, and Gates, who 
sat at the head of the table, perceiving some louder 
laughter than usual going on near where Burgoyne 
was seated, between two American officers, was curi- 
ous to know the cause. ' General Burgoyne says that 
you look more like an old woman than a general offi- 



24 

cer,' explained one of the party. 'Do I ?' replied 
Gates: ' well, perhaps I am an old woman. At all 
events, I've safely delivered General Burgoyne often 
thousand men.' The laughter was turned against 
Burgoyne," said the old gentleman, who chuckled over 
the story. " Gen. Burgoyne was no match for Gates, 
either in joking or fighting." He appeared to enjoy 
the anecdote greatly. We never recollect having 
heard it before ; but pi'obably it was a favorite joke 
with the young men in the camp at the time. Ralph 
Farnham had served, from 1*1*75 to the close of 1717, 
with the Revolutionary army — a period of near- 
ly three years : he had done his part well, and he now 
retired, and betook himself to the appropriate duties 
of a private citizen, who could feel satisfied that he 
had done his duty to his country. During this period 
he had had frequent opportunities of studying the 
characters of the leaders under whom he served, and 
of learning how they were regarded by his fellow sol- 
diers. The memory of Washington the old gentleman 
holds in the highest veneration. He spoke frequently 
of his constant care of the men under his command, of 
his encouraging words, and his universal kindness, 
though he never overlooked any gross dereliction from 
duty. 

"Ahl" said he, "Washington was a fine man. 
There are no such men as Washington in these times!" 

Of General Putnam, he remarked : 

" Yes — old Putnam was rough and ready. He was 
afraid of nothing. He looked like a farmer; but he 
feared nothing, nor nobody." 

Speaking of Gates, he said : 

" General Gates was an easy-going man to look at ; 



25 

but he was a good man, and a brave soldier. All the 
men liked him." 

Of these three he speaks more familiarly than of 
any others ; and he knows little of the officers whose 
services were chiefly confined to the southern section 
of the country, to which he never was called. 

The public will be more interested in the old man, 
as he is now living at an age to which few men 
attain in the course of a century. It is not to be 
expected that anything new relating to the Revolu- 
tion can be learnt at this period, and the chief interest 
consists in listening to, and seeing one, who was him- 
self an actor in these stirring scenes, which, to the 
world at large, are matters of bygone history ; but, to 
all that appertains to him in his present extreme old 
age, there is an especial interest attached. Every- 
body is anxious to know the mode of life of one whose 
years would place him on record amongst the patriarchs 
of old ; of one who had lived through an ordinary 
human life before most of the present inhabitants of 
this eai'th were born. 

In l*r80, Mr. Ralph Farnham, being then in the 
twenty-fifth year of his age, retired to the wilds bor- 
dering on the States of New Hampshire and Maine, 
and took possession of one hundred acres of land in the 
latter-named State — in a township now known as Acton. 
The country, at that period, was for miles around a 
wilderness, covered with dense forests, which extend- 
ed in every direction, as far as the eye could reach. He 
had no immediate neighbors, though every person 
who lived within ten miles was considered as a 
neighbor, in that thinly-peopled and desolate district. 
He had a brother who took possession of a poi'tion of 
2 



26 

land about two miles distant from him, and there 
were other settlers scattered around, within a radius 
of from five to ten miles. It seems strange to us, 
used to live in cities or villages, or thickly-populated 
districts, that any one could, from choice, or even 
with the hope of gain, so completely isolate himself 
from the busy world ; but the same spirit then actuated 
the pioneers of the now populated and cultivated dis- 
tricts of New England, as now actuates the bold, 
hardy adventurers who leave civilization behind them, 
and make a home in the wilderness of the Far West. 
Were it not for such men as these, our broad land 
would remain in a state of nature, and we should 
throng the cities and the surrounding country until 
actually driven to find a livelihood elsewhere, through 
an excess of population. This spirit of adventure 
would seem to be given by Providence for the special 
object of subduing nature, and extending the limits of 
cultivation and civilization in a broad, and as yet, 
sparsely-populated country, such as ours. 

Mr. Farnham's first movement was to build himself 
a log cabin in the depths of the forest, and having thus 
secured a place of shelter, he set boldly to work at 
the arduous task before him, of felling the trees and 
bringing a portion of his wild land under cultivation. 

There is something grand, almost sublime, after 
all, in the contemplation of such an existence. 

Alone, far away from his fellow-men ! the wild and 
savage denizens of the forest his sole companions, he 
set forth, in the strength and pride of his manhood, to 
do battle with nature, and to bring the desert under 
cultivation. We of the cities can scarcely conceive 
what must be the thoughts of a man so situated, 



21 

when, his day's labor ended, he returned to his solitary 
hut, and cooked and ate the simple food he had earned 
by the sweat of his brow, in solitude and silence ; no 
one to exchange a word wi^h. Solemn stillness around 
him, save when the tempest rocked the mighty trees 
to and fro, or when the thunder reverberated through 
the forest, or when the sharp cry of some savage 
beast, roaming the woods for food, broke on his ear 
and aroused him from his slumbers, or from some 
dreamy reverie. One would think that a human 
being so situated would become wild as the beasts of 
the forest themselves, and in time lose all recollection 
of civilization, for even the Indian knows not such 
solitude as this. He has his wigwam situated amongst 
those of his tribe, and his wife and children and com- 
panions to cheer his leisure hours. But it would appear 
that there is a charm in such a life ; nor does it pre- 
vent men, in after years, from mingling in society, and 
being as sociable as their fellows. Yet to think of 
sickness coming upon one thus placed ; to think of 
dying alone, uncared for, unthought of, unknown ! 
To the man used to society, the thought is horrible. 

We have spoken of other settlers, but Ralph Farn- 
ham was the first settler in this then drear, desolate 
region. The ring of the woodman's axe, wielded by 
his strong arm, first awoke the echoes of the dense 
forest, which had, perhaps, slumbered since the crea- 
tion, and startled the frightened wild beast from his 
lair, and caused the timid birds to circle in the air and 
scream forth their wonder and fear at the unwonted 
sound. He felled the first trees that were cut down 
in the section of the country where he has since 
resided, and which is now covered with fertile farms 



28 

and thriving villages. The forests were infested with 
bears and catamounts, and other savage beasts, as 
well as with deer of several varieties, and Mr. Farn- 
ham frequently came into unwelcome collision with 
these creatures while engaged at his labors, though 
fortunately without ever having met with any serious 
accident in consequence thereof. 

On one occasion, while going thoughtlessly to his 
daily labor, towards a distant part of the forest, he 
was suddenly startled from his propriety by the appa- 
rition of a huge bear, which suddenly descended from 
a tree he was passing, and, raising itself on its hind 
legs, stood gazing at him, as much as to say : " Pray 
what are you doing here in my domain ?'i He had 
nothing with him but his woodman's axe — a somewhat 
contemptible weapon Avherewith to oppose a full-grown 
bear. Still he would not have been greatly alarmed 
had this been all ; but while he was considering how 
to act, bruin number two descended the tree, speedily 
followed by three half-grown cubs ! He had evidently 
stumbled on a family party — papa, mamma, and their 
joint offspring. Bears, the females especially, are 
unusually savage when with their young, and Mr. 
Farnham began to wish himself back again in his log- 
hut. To retreat would have been to invite pursuit — 
to commence aggression would have brought the 
whole party upon him. He was nonplussed, and stood 
awaiting their further action. Fortunately, after sur- 
veying the intruder carefully, the whole family walked 
slowly away. 

"I let 'em go," quaintly observed the old gentle- 
man, wlien relating the story ; " I was glad to get 
rid of 'em. I guess the varmin 'ud a been too much 
for me." We should imagine they would, truly. 



29 

Sometimes, however, he encountered less formid- 
able animals-— such as deer, which furnished him with 
abundant food for a long time ; though it was by no 
means desirable to encounter the larger species of deer, 
such as the gigantic moose, unprepared with fire-arms. 
One day, when armed, as usual when going to work, 
with his axe, alone, he encountered the largest moose 
deer he had ever seen. He dared not attack the ani- 
mal, and, equally alarmed, the moose made off, but in 
a short time its legs became entangled in the roots of 
a fallen tree. Now was Mr. Farnham's opportunity. 
He advanced and killed the creature with his axe, and 
subsequently contrived to convey it home. It weighed 
no less than 800 pounds. Such adventures as these 
were by no means uncommon during the early period 
of the old gentleman's settlement in the wilderness. 

After awhile, people began to settle more thickly 
around him. Men brought their wives and families, 
and there was a little colony, still widely separated 
from each other, by, often, miles of intermediate forest. 
This, however, did not deter them from occasional 
merry-makings and frolics, on which occasions they 
assembled at some particular house previously desig- 
nated, and danced, and sung, and enjoyed themselves. 

" Not," said the old gentleman, with some appear- 
ance of disgust at modern usages, " as young people 
do now, but in a decent manner." 

On one of these festive occasions, Mr. Farnham had 
gone to the residence of a neighbor, some two miles 
distant from his home, where a large party had assem- 
bled, by invitation. Most people have heard of the 
" dark day," as the period of a total eclipse of the sun 
was subsequently termed by the country people far 



30 

and near, vrho were frightened half out of their wits 
by it. Total eclipses of the sun are exceedingly rare, 
and were quite unknown and unheard of by the simple 
inhabitants of the country, and, indeed, were at that 
period regarded with alarm by many better educated 
persons, who ought to haye had more sense. 

About two o'clock in the afternoon, while the fun 
was at its height— for these frolics closed at sun-down, 
to admit of the visitors returning home throug'h the 
forest before it got too dark — it became gloomy all of 
a sudden, and a young woman went to look out at the 
door, thinking it was going to rain, although but a 
moment before not a cloud was to be seen in the sky. 
Presently she returned in a state of affright, saying that 
it was growing dark, though not a cloud was yisible. 

The darkness came on apace. Consternation seized 
the assembly ; the party broke up hurriedly, and some 
hastened homewards. Among these latter was Ralph 
Farnham ; but he had not gone far into the forest be- 
fore it grew so dark that it was impossible to proceed 
The birds had gone to roost, and all nature was silent 
as the graye. He sat down on the trunk of a fallen 
tree, and, as he says, awaited the sound of the Arch- 
angel's trump, expecting to see the dead arise, and the 
heavens unroll — for he thought the judgment day had 
come. HoAv long he sat he does not know ; but it 
grew somewhat lighter, and he found his way home in 
safety ; but the night which followed, he says, was the 
darkest he ever saw. It seemed, to use his own words, 
" as if he could feel the darkness." 

" Was it two o'clock, exactly, when it commenced ?" 
we asked. 

" Two o'clock, as near as we could judge, by the 



31 

sun," was the reply ; " we had uo clocks nor watches 
in those days. There wasn't a time-piece, perhaps, 
within twenty miles." 

" It was a total eclipse of the sun ? " we suggested. 

" No, 'twas no eclipse," replied the old gentleman, 
apparently somewhat annoyed at our lack of faith. " It 
was total darkness, and no one, from that day to this, 
has discovered the cause." 

We doubt whether the old gentleman now knows 
the nature of an eclipse ; but any attempt to prove a 
natural cause for this phenomenon rouses his indigna- 
tion. 

It apparently had a good effect upon him, and prob- 
ably upon others of the settlers ; for, shortly after, he 
was led to entertain serious notions of religion, and 
joined the Free-Will Baptist Church, of which congre- 
gation he has since — a period of seventy-eight years — 
been a conscientious, and, until latterly, an active 
member. We have no doubt, from certain expres- 
sions which fell from him, that even now he would be 
nothing loth to enter into an argument upon church 
doctrine. 

Two years thus passed away, and Mr. Farnham 
still lived the life of a hermit in his log-cabin ; but he 
had cleared a considerable piece of ground for culti- 
vation, and, growing weary of his solitude, he wooed 
and won the heart and hand of the fair daughter of a 
neighbor settler — one Mehitable Bean — whom he 
brought to his forest home, to enliven it with the 
thousand charms with which woman can embellish 
the dreariest spot ; but it was no dreary spot to 
which young Ralph Farnham carried his youthful 
bride. His strong arm and determined will had per- 



32 

formed wonders during- four years of solitary resi- 
dence. " The desert had been made to smile, and 
blossom like a rose ; " and corn and grain were plant- 
ed where, but four years before, the soil Avas over" 
shadowed with the trees of the forest. The log-cabin 
was there still, but high up on the brow of the hill 
the foundation was laid for the snug-, commodious, 
though small and unpretending farm-house, which now 
seems to invite the traveler to step aside from the 
road, and rest beneath its roof 

Seven children were the fruits of this union, viz. : 
Benjamin, who died in 1848, aged sixty-three, and 
who, had he lived, would now have been seventy-five 
years old. Anna, aged seventy-two, still living, and 
earning her livelihood as a tailoress at Acton village. 
Mary, who died aged sixty-seven ; Johanna, aged 
sixty-five, now employed as a domestic at the Ameri- 
can House, in Hanover-street, Boston ; John, aged 
sixty-three, a farmer at Acton ; Daniel, who died late- 
ly, aged sixty-one ; and Ealph, the youngest son, 
aged fifty-nine, a farmer, resident at Fairfield, Kenne- 
bec county. Mrs. Mehitable Farnham, who died in 
1842, aged seventy-seven, was nine years younger 
than her husband, who has already survived her 
eighteen years. It is only within the past few months 
that it has been generally known that an old soldier 
of the earlier portion of the Eevolution was still living, 
and in the enjoyment (considering his extreme old age) 
of excellent health and spirits ; and the manner in 
which it became known is somewhat singular. 

While delivering his oration at Faneuil Hall, Bos- 
ton, on the Fourth of July last, the Hon. Edward Everett 
casually remarked that, to the best of his belief, not a 



33 

single individual was living who was engaged at the' 
battle of Bunker Hill, or who took part in the early 
struggles of the Revolutionary period. 

The eloquent orator had reason on his side. It is 
not probable that any 3'outh under the age of fifteen 
took part in those early struggles, and a youth of 
fifteen, who was in the battle of Bunker Hill, would 
now be one hundred years of age. How few men or 
women are there in the United States who have 
attained to that great age ! How comparatively few 
in the whole world! 

The Hon. Mr. Everett's spee(Ji was, as a matter of 
course, read by tens of thousands, far and near, and 
the residents of the section of the country in which 
Mr. Ralph Farnham has resided for so many years — 
for thirty-five years beyond the ordinary span of life 
allotted to man, since the deluge! — who had hitherto 
kept " Old Uncle Farnham," as the old gentleman is 
familiarly and affectionately termed, to themselves, 
resolved to make it known that they still cherished 
amongst them an aged man who had actually attained 
to manhood at the period when the Revolutionary 
struggle commenced. 

On the seventh of July last, the residents of Acton, 
and of the surrounding country and villages, assembled 
at Milton Mills, N. H., distant four miles from Mr. Farn- 
ham's residence, to celebrate the old gentleman's one 
hundred and fourth birthday — he having on that day 
completed the hundred and fourth year of his life. 

One hundred and four guns were fired ; a dinner was 

given, at which Ralph Farnham was assigned the 

post of honor ; speeches were made, toasts drunk, 

together with various other suitable demonstrations in 

2* 



34 

honor of the venerable old man, and the whole affair 
passed oflT in a manner creditable alike to the origina- 
tors of the celebration, the people who attended, and 
the venerable guest who honored it with his presence, 
and who sat, like a patriarch of olden times, sur- 
rounded by gray-headed men whom he had known as 
infants when he was a man grown — by men of middle 
age, who, in their childhood, had known him as " Old 
Uncle Farnham," and by stalwart youths, who had 
entered upon existence j^ears after he had passed the 
allotted term of three score years and ten ! It was a 
simple, but a touching ;ind appBopriate demonstration, 
and it was freely commented upon by the press. 
People read, and wondered when they heard that there 
was still in existence one of that generation which, 
it was thought, had passed away forever ; and Uncle 
Ralph Farnham, like some other men who have been 
far less worthy, awoke one morning and found him- 
self famous. 

Since that period, a great number of persons, curi- 
ous to see and speak with a venerable relic of that 
period which will ever be the most memorable 
in the history of the United States, have called 
to visit the old gentleman ; and scarcely a day 
has passed on which letters have not been received 
from persons desirous of possessing his autograph, 
or of having made clear some doubtful genealogical 
point, or of proving some relationship to the family 
by marriage or by offshoot from the direct line ; and 
among the letters have been several from persons 
bearing the same family name, residents of the South- 
ern section of the Union. To reply to these letters 
would be quite impossible on the part of the old gen- 



35 

tlcman. Indeed, the task would require the constant 
labor of an industrious amanuensis ; but we pre- 
sume that each individual who writes believes him- 
self to be the only one interested. 

With regard to visitors, the old gentleman appears 
glad to see them, and gratified with the attention and 
respect shown him ; and, as it is a laudable curiosity 
which prompts persons to visit and exchange greet- 
ings with one whose birth took place years before the 
United States took their position amongst the inde- 
pendent nations of the earth — with one who witnessed 
the throes of our country's birth, and took part in its 
baptism in the noblest blood of its sons — we may be 
doing a service to the traveler or tourist whose busi- 
ness or pleasure may lead him to that section of the 
country in which Ealph Farnham resides, by indi- 
cating the nearest route to Acton. 

Traveling over the Boston and Maine Railroad, 
northward, you will quit the main line at the Great 
Falls Junction, a few miles northward of Portsmouth, 
N. H., and, taking a seat in the cars of the branch 
road, you proceed to the terminus at Union Village, 
N. H., where a conveyance to Acton, via Milton Mills, 
may readily be procured. The distance from Union 
Village is six miles, over an excellent road, slightly on 
the ascent the entire distance, and through some very 
delightful scenery. At this season of the year (Sep- 
tember), the orchards, which line the road on both sides, 
are loaded with fruit — the grateful perfume of which 
fills the air. In fact, so numerous are the apple-trees, 
that in some places they grow in the open road, ap- 
parently without an owner. 

The farm-house, a small, neat, unpretending wooden 



36 

building, stands off the road, a considerable distance 
from Acton village, on a beautiful and fertile ridge, 
commanding an extensive view of the surrounding 
country, and on a clear day the snow-capped summits of 
the White Mountains of New Hampshire are distinctly 
visible. The air on this elevated plateau is exceed- 
ingly pure, and must be healthful and favorable to 
longevity — for though Ealph Farnham is the patriarch 
of that section of the country, it surprises the visitors 
to see the many aged and healthy persons of both 
sexes he meets with during the drive. 

In the farm-house we have mentioned resides Uncle 
Ralph Farnham, with his second son, Mr. John Farn- 
ham — the wife of the latter, and their two sons, who 
have, for several years past, taken charge of the farm. 

The house, as we have already mentioned, stands 
just above the site of the log-cabin (now no more), in 
which Mr. Ralph Farnham resided alone in his bache- 
lor days, while he was engaged in felling the forest 
trees surrounding his hermit-like abode. What a won- 
derful change he has lived to witness ! Now, as far as 
the eye can reach, the view extends over a beautiful 
champagne country, covered with fertile farms, and 
thrifty apple-orchards, and smiling villages, and busy 
manufactories — there being an abundance of water- 
power for the last named — while a constantly-increas- 
ing, active, healthful population has grown up, where, 
eighty years ago, the dark, apparently interminable 
forest stretched for miles in every direction — where 
the shaggy bear and savage Avild cat had their solitary 
lairs, and roamed lords of the wilderness — where 
herds of deer and other animals of that species had 
their home — where the foot of civilized man had never 
penetrated ! 



3t 

Here, in the quiet seclusion of the country, Ralph 
Farnham has passed a long, active, useful, yet unam- 
bitious life, scarcely cognizant — perhaps unheeding- 
all that was going forward in the busy world. Yet, 
what wonderful changes have occurred — what strange 
events have happened since the day of his birth ! 
When he was born, George 11. — whose s>l'eat-great- 
granddaughtcr, Victoria, now occupies the British 
throne — was king of England and of the United 
Colonies of America, and though George III. reigned 
sixty years, five British sovereigns have ascended the 
throne during his life. During the year of his birth, 
Canada passed from the hands of the French into the 
possession of England, and the colonists, who, eighteen 
years later, were engaged in a deadly struggle with 
the mother country, were then fighting side by side 
with British soldiers against the French. In France, 
at the period of his birth, Louis XV. swayed the 
sceptre of the Bourbons — now exiled and scattered, 
probably never again to recover their lost power. He 
was a man of nearly forty years old, when the star of 
Bonaparte arose. During his life, continental Europe 
has been overrun by French victors ; France has, in 
its turn, been humbled, the conquering Bonaparte has 
died in exile on the rock of St. Helena, and yet again 
a Bonaparte has ascended to the Imperial throne of 
France. The map of Europe has so changed during 
his life, that a map published at the period of his birth 
would be entirely useless. The immense island-conti- 
nent of Australia and the numerous island groups of 
Polynesia were at his birth unknown countries, as 
was also a considerable portion of Africa, now settled 
by Europeans. Since his birth, an immense empire, 



38 

containing- one hundred millions of inhabitants, has 
arisen in Asia, and the thirteen colonies, in whose en- 
franchisement he took a humble part, have increased 
to thirty-two sovereign states, containing' a popula- 
tion as numerous as that of Great Britain, and greater 
than any other European State, with the exception of 
France and Austria ; while the United States, which, 
when he settled on his farm, had just merged into 
independence, and, poverty-stricken and staggering 
beneath the weight of the struggle, were almost 
doubtful if their independence could be maintained, 
have risen to be equal to any State in the Old World, 
and have made themselves honored and respected by 
the most haughty, wealthy, and powerful nations of the 
earth. Great names in literature and arts and arms have 
arisen and passed away to immortality during his 
day. When he was a young man, the sententious 
and sage Dr. Johnson was in the heyday of his fame ; 
since then Burns and Byron have been born, have flour- 
ished and died. Scores, nay hundreds of men, whose 
memory is venerated by the whole civilized world,.have 
lived and died during his long pilgrimage, and are 
now of the past. For years after he was grown to 
manhood America had no literature — was famed for 
no discoveries nor inventions ; a young people strug- 
gling into existence, her children were compelled to 
look to more material things in order to maintain 
themselves ; yet how many Americans since then 
have risen to fame in almost every department of 
literature and science ? How many of these have 
passed away at a venerable old age ? 

But little of this has been known to the humble, 
simple farmer of New England. He has had to do 



39 

battle with the soil for subsistence, and he has had 
his reward in witnessing-, as we have remarked, as 
wonderful changes, in his secluded existence, as the 
busy outside world has seen ; and, in the position in 
which it has pleased Providence to place him, has not 
his life been as usefully and as worthily passed as 
that of the greatest among his fellow-mortals ? 

But little was known, or, perhaps, cared for, of 
what now-a-days are considered as necessaries of life, 
by the hardy settlers in the wilderness in the early 
portion of their career. Their food was simple, and 
chiefly raised by themselves ; their clothing was warm 
and comfortable, but it owed little to the tailor's skill ; 
the furniture of their houses was scant and plain — 
carpets and sofas, watches and clocks, a thousand 
things that the poorest mechanic now deems essential 
to his household were unknown or uncaredfor by them. 
Yet, they had all they needed, for their wants were 
few as their means were scant. The old gentleman 
informed us that the only material they used for writing 
upon was the bark of trees — peeled, smoothed and 
dried — their ink they manufactured for themselves — of 
paper they had none, and, perhaps, they little needed it. 

Things have greatly changed with them since then ! 
The railroad has proved a wonderful leveler, and 
the country beau and the village, belle are now as 
gay in their holiday attire as their youthful city 
cousins, while the cottage of a New England farmer 
often boasts of as snugly-furnished apartments as the 
most thi-ifty housewife can desire. Still, withal, there 
is an honest rusticity observable amongst them, which 
'twere pity they should ever shake off, for it is refresh- 
ing to witness, after a long residence amidst the con- 



40 

ventionalisms of city life, and of all the men on earth 
the New England farmer is the most independent, and 
should be the happiest. 

All honor to Ralph Farnham, and such as he, who 
braved the solitude and perils of the wilderness and 
forest to become the pioneers of New England's now 
fertile soil ! 

Mr. Ralph Farnham is, as we have observed, always 
happy to receive those who pay him a visit. The old 
gentleman enters freely into conversation, and replies 
readily to all questions put to him. It is very pleas- 
ing to converse Avith the venerable old man, and listen 
to the various events of his (save in his earlier days) 
unchequered life. 

From our conversations with him, we have gleaned 
the matter of this brief memoir. There is little start- 
ling in his history ; the pleasure one feels is derived 
from conversing with so old a man — with one who 
was an actor amid scenes which, to the present gene- 
ration, are subjects of history. 

One peculiarity we noticed especially — it is that of 
abruptly inquiring the age of all who visit him. He 
suddenly raises his head, as if awakening from some 
thoughtful reverie, and asks : 

"What age do you call yourself, sir?" Any age 
below fifty he considers as that of mere boyhood. 

It is impossible, in print, to describe the peculiar 
quaintness of these interrogatories 

The gentleman who drove us to his door was a Mr. 
Lock, of Salmon Falls, N. H. He was introduced to 
the old gentleman. 

"Mr. Lock," he replied in a loud tone of voice ; 
" Mr. Lock, pray, sir, did not your father keep the 
prison at Dover, New Hampshire ?" 



41 

" He did," replied Mr. L. 

" Ah I" continued the old man, "I recollect him well. 
He was fond of arguing' on points of doctrine. I've 
often argued with him. He was a good man. How 
long ago was that since he lived at Dover ?" 

" It must be fifty years I" replied Mr. L. " My fa- 
ther has been many years dead, and he moved from 
Dover several years before his death." 

" Ah ! fifty years," replied the old gentleman, mu- 
singly; then, looking up sharply, he added— 

" And pray what age may you call yourself, sir?" 

The reader will recollect that Mr. Farnham had 
never seen Mr. Lock, junior, in his life, that either he 
or Mr. L. was aware of, and that fifty years before, 
at least, he recollected holding an argument relative 
to some point of church doctrine with Mr. L.'s father! 

It was a most astonishing proof of retention of mem- 
ory. To look at the old gentleman, though his face is 
much furrowed, and he stoops considerably, no one 
would imagine him to be the great age he actually is. 
We have rarely seen men of fourscore so hale and 
hearty, and so free from infirmity or decrepitude. He is 
a man of middle height, broad-shouldered, and some- 
what stoutly built, and in youth and middle age — 
probably to old age^-for he has passed that term — he 
must have been a strong, athletic man. It is scarce- 
ly possible to judge of the features of a man so aged, 
but we should imagine him to have been a good-look- 
ing man in early life. His white hair — of which, for 
an old man, he has great abundance — imparts to his 
countenance an extremely venerable and patriarchal 
appearance. 

The old gentleman boasts of having voted for 



42 

Washington as first President of the United States, 
and for every President that has since occupied the 
White House, at Washington. He expects to vote 
for the next President, and, for our part, we should 
not be surprised if he lived to vote for two or three 
Presidents yet to come. On the 10th of September of 
the present year (1860), he was carried in a wagon a 
distance of seven miles, to vote for the Governor of 
Maine. The old man takes much interest in politics, 
but he is so wary that it is almost impossible to dis- 
cover his political predilections. 

Throughout life his habits have been extremely 
regular, and to this, perhaps, united with a strong 
constitution, and the healthful life he has lived from 
boyhood, he may be indebted for his extraordinary 
longevity. He is, and always has been, remarkably 
temperate ; but he smokes a great deal. This should 
be a consolation to the lovefs of the narcotic " weed" 
— since in Mr. Farnham's case, at all events, the stimu- 
lus of tobacco has not been productive of mischief 
— unless, as an Irishman is reported to have said — 
" If he has lived to his one hundred and fifth year and 
been an habitual smoker, who knows how old he 
would have been if he hadn't smoked ?" 

The old gentleman couldn't do without his pipe, 
now, for any consideration. 

For several years past, he has retired regularly at 
T p. M., and risen at 5 a. m. On rising, and when about 
to retire, he always engages aloud in prayer, in his 
own room. "This has been his practice," says his son, 
" ever since he was a boy." 

His prayer is almost always to this effect : — 

"Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy 



name. ! Lord God, look down upon Thine unworthy 
servant. Pardon my sins ; g'ive me a clean heart, and 
a right spirit, and render mc worthy of acceptance 
■with Thee : through Thy blessed Son, Jesus Christ. 
Thou, who holdest the earth in the hollow of Thine 
hand, have mercy upon me, and upon all men. Bless 
and prosper Thy Church. Teach all mankind to walk 
and live according to Thy law. Strengthen the weak- 
hearted ; uphold those who are likely to fall, and 
encourage the faltering. I thank Thee for the many 
mercies of my past life ; for the care Thou hast over 
me, day by day ; for the provision Thou hast afford- 
ed me ; for all the blessings and mercies of this life, 
and for the hope Thou hast given us, through Christ, 
of eternal happiness in the world to come, when Thou 
wilt receive those who have proved acceptable in Thy 
sight, and seat them at Thy right hand, to be with 
Thee for evermore. 

" Bless my family, and all for whom I ought, and 
desire to pray ; grant us such prosperity as is needful 
for us, and teach us to submit ourselves to Thy will, 
and to say in all things; Tliy ivill he clone. Do this, 
Lord, for the sake of our blessed Saviour, Jesus Christ, 
to Whom, with Thee and the Holy Ghost, be all honor 
and gloiy, now and evermore, world without end. 
Amen !" The above is a specimen of the good old 
man's simple, heartfelt prayer. 

He eats with as good an appetite as any one of the 
family. His breakfast consists generally of roasted 
potatoes, bread-and-butter, and pie, with tea ; he eats 
meat at dinner ; at supper, the same as in the morn- 
ing. He walks firmly, though his form is somewhat 
bent, and on no occasion lies down or sleeps in the 



44 

day timo. After retiring, he sleeps soundly through- 
out the whole night. 

He is very cheerful in spirits, and even in temper ; 
fond of an old joke, or of telling an old and favorite 
story, over which he chuckles till the tears run down 
his cheeks ; yet he is a man of firm religious princi- 
ple, and not averse, we should conceive, even now, to 
enter into an argument upon points of religious doc- 
trine or church government. He passes a good deal 
of time in reading his Bible, with the assistance of a 
pair of old-fashioned, iron-rimmed spectacles, with 
glasses as large round as half-a-dollar. These specta- 
cles are an heir-loom, and belonged to, and were used 
by his mother. They are, he says, at least one hun- 
dred and sixty years old. Perhaps it would be dilfi- 
cult to find a pair of glasses to suit the sight of so aged 
a man ; but be possible to do so, it would be an act 
of kindness, which we are confident the old gentleman 
would appreciate, if some generous individual were to 
present him with a pair of more modern spectacles. 

When weary of reading, he rises and walks out, 
after having lighted his pipe, and strolls around in 
the vicinity of the house, sometimes going as far as 
the gate, and exchanging greetings with the casual 
passers by, to nearly all of whom he has been known 
since their childhood, and all have a kindly word and 
a cheerful smile for the patriarchal old man. During 
the day he gathers kindling-wood for his fire — insist- 
ing, both winter and summer, on bringing in his own 
wood and lighting his fire in his own room ; indeed, 
he is not by any means pleased if any one offers to 
perform this task for him. 

He engages in no active labor, nor has he so done 



45 

for years— though, in his hundredth year, he mowed 
a considerable piece of grass, in front of the house, 
and, about two years ago, set to work of his own 
accoi'd to weed a potato patch ; but his son was 
obliged to beg him to desist from this latter employ- 
ment, as the old gentleman, whose sight was dim, was 
pulling up as many potatoe shoots as weeds. He did 
not appear pleased when informed of his blunder ; but 
probably he took it as a signification that it was time 
for him to cease from outdoor labor, as he has never 
since engaged in it. 

With the exception of this dimness of sight — which 
in no way interferes with his reading, with spectacles — 
and a slight deafness — not sufficient to render conver- 
sation with him in the slightest degree irksome — he 
retains the use of his faculties in marvelous perfec- 
tion. We have one matter more to speak of, and we 
will bring our brief memoir to a close. It is an adage, 
old as the republican days of ancient Rome, that " Re- 
publics are ungrateful." There is reason in it and for 
it. When the people, or those whom they have elected 
as their direct representatives, have charge of the 
public purse, they are naturally chary of their money, 
and not apt to give such enormous pensions as are 
given to superannuated or meritorious public servants 
as the ministers of monarchical governments are apt 
to do — they having fewer checks upon their disburse- 
ment of the public treasure. 

In monarchical governments, the system of pension- 
ing often becomes a gross robbery of the people's 
money. Favorite generals, and admirals, and states- 
men, who deserve well of their country, are often 
rewarded with grants and pensions out of all reason, 



as regards their amount, and pensions arc too often 
granted to those who possess not the shadow of a 
cLaim to any such public benefaction, until the pension 
list grows to be a burdensome tax upon the working 
classes, who are compelled to labor hard to make both 
ends meet, while they are supporting unworthy per- 
sons in idleness and luxury, 

A republican government is liable to run to the 
opposite extreme. The theory is (and to a certain 
extent it is a perfectlj^ just one), that men are eager 
to obtain government employment because the remu- 
neration is generally higher for the amount and na- 
ture of the labor exacted, than employment of any 
other description, and the pay is sure. Public servants, 
therefore, it is thought, ought to provide for old age 
out of their earnings while in employment, as other 
persons are expected to do^ since they do but their 
duty in serving their country to the best of their 
ability, /or ^ay, as others do who serve a private em- 
ployer /or 2^(^y- Except in peculiar cases, they have 
no claims upon the people. The republican theory is 
correct, and hence public men raise the cry, " Repub- 
lics are ungrateful !" 

We are far from advocating a too-liberal pension 
system ; but, if any one has a claim upon the public, 
it is assuredly those aged men who yet remain among 
us, and whose span of existence must, in the course 
of nature, be snapped asunder in a few years, at the 
utmost — who freely and voluntarily shed their blood 
and exposed their lives at that period when the liber- 
ties of our country were threatened, and who helped 
to secure to us the freedom and independence we now 
enjoy. The few who are living are generally poor 



47 

men — all are men in advanced years ; and the people 
would neither feel nor complain of a liberal pension 
being granted to these aged men during the brief 
remainder of their lives. 

The sum of ninety-six dollars per year, a poor pit- 
tance, quite insuiBcient for a man's maintenance, is 
the amount generally received from the national trea- 
sury by these veterans of the Revolution. It ought to 
be twice that amount. But by some strange error — 
we must presume — or by some neglect, through ignor- 
ance on the part of the recipient, Mr. Ralph Farnham, 
the sole survivor of the Battle of Bunker Hill — the 
only man living ivho took part in the earliest struggles 
of that terrible and sanguinary epoch in our country''s 
history, has received, and continues to receive, only $61.66 
per annum, $4 of which p)0.ltry pittance he has to pay to 
a lawyer in Portland in order to obtain the rest I He is 
in poor, if not actually indigent, circumstances. His 
farm of one hundred acres of hilly, rocky land, though 
fair to look at, and carefully cultivated, is insufficient 
for more than the bare maintenance of himself, his 
son and daughter-in-law, and his grandsons. Why 
does he not receive at least the usual pension of $96.00 ? 
We feel satisfied that it is only necessary to draw the 
attention of the proper authorities to this subject to 
have it promptly rectified. Surely every American 
would desire that the most aged of the gallant heroes 
of the Revolution should spend the last few years of 
his life, and pass away to his rest, in the enjoyment of 
every comfort it is in the power of money to bestow ? 

Here we close our brief and necessarily imperfect 
memoir of Mr. Ralph Farnham. As we have said, all 
that we have penned we have gleaned from the old 



/^Ir-y 



48 ^U.-<...*4-C-v 

f ; 
gentleman in the course of irregular conversation. He 
is too aged, even if he were in a position to do so, to 
render a full and perfect history of his career ; nor do 
we believe it would prove of greater interest to the 
public than will the desultory remarks and the brief 
history recorded in these few pages. 

We claim no credit for our task, nor do we expect 
any. The object is to benefit the venerable old man, 
and by the sale of the work, the daguerreotypes and 
autographs to raise a little fund which may serve to 
lighten the cares of his declining years, and pro- 
cure for him such comforts and indulgences as we 
should all like a relation or friend of our own, who had 
reached his advanced period of life, to enjoy. When he 
quits this life — we hope and trust to enter upon a 
brighter and an eternal existence — the last link of the 
chain will be severed that connects the generation now 
living with that which witnessed the dawn of our nation- 
al existence, and the period of our earliest Revolution- 
ary struggle will be indeed one of bygone history. 



P. S. — We call attention to the autograph of Mr. 
Farnham. It is written in a coarse, rude hand. It is not 
to be expected that a man like him can have paid much 
attention to penmanship in his early days ; but it is 
bold and freely written for so aged a man, and almost 
wholly free from that tremulousness which generally 
characterizes the handwriting of very aged persons. 

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